“Butter you up?”

  “Trying to. Una’s my youngest, just turned seventeen last month, and thinks she can bribe me into letting her go to a concert in Helena with her boyfriend the weekend after next.”

  “Oh, dear.” I grin around my bite of fluffy scrambled eggs.

  “Exactly. Oh, dear. If James gets wind of it, he will chain her up inside the house.”

  Ama goes on to tell me a little about her family. Her daughter, Uma, who is in too much of a hurry to grow up and her son, JD, who is away at college. I’m a little envious when she speaks of her parents, her sister with whom she’s close, and her family at large, which appears to include everyone here at High Meadow.

  I’ve never had a large family. Even when Mom and Dad were still alive it was only the four of us. After that it was only Pippa and me, but with recent events I’m starting to wonder if I still have all of my sister.

  While Ama talks, I actually manage to empty my plate.

  “That was so good. Really hit the spot,” I tell her when she removes the tray from my lap.

  “Good. I’m glad. I have a confession to make though, when it comes to buttering up, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She grins. “I was hoping I could persuade you to show me how to make that flapper pie. I think my family would love it.”

  “We’ll need lots of eggs, vanilla bean, graham crackers, and a few standard staples,” I tell her as I get out of the rocker.

  “I didn’t mean right now,” she says, shocked. “When you feel a little better.”

  “You can do all the work; I’ll just be sitting down giving directions.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.” She shrugs and heads inside.

  I follow a little slower, casting one last glance at the corral. When I walk into the kitchen, Ama is already pulling stuff from the pantry and the fridge. I take a seat at the island and recite the necessary ingredients for the crust.

  In no time she has the milk, butter, and sugar for the custard coming to a boil on the stove, the egg whites and yolks are separated and resting in their respective bowls, and the heavy-duty food processor is loud as I watch Ama feed in one graham cracker after the other.

  So loud, I don’t realize someone is right behind me until I feel warm breath brush my cheek.

  Fletch

  “Whoa, easy.”

  I barely manage to grab the crutch coming at my face.

  “Jesus, Fletcher,” Ama scolds me over her shoulder. “She almost bashed your face in.”

  She’s not kidding. I bent down to give Nella a kiss when she reacted and swung that crutch blindly over her head. She would’ve broken my nose too if I hadn’t been just a fraction faster.

  Clearly neither of them heard me come in, which isn’t really a surprise given the racket Ama was making with that machine.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She whips around in her seat, her pretty eyes round like saucers. Then they narrow to little glimmering pinpricks.

  “Startle me? You scared the ever-living crap out of me!”

  I’m having a hard time keeping a straight face so to hide it I tag her behind her neck, bend my head, and kiss the anger off her lips. Her mouth is tight and unyielding for a few seconds and then she gives in to the kiss, allowing me to slip my tongue in her mouth.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, son. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  I feel Nella seize up and lift my head, looking her in the eyes for a moment before turning my head to find a grinning Thomas and equally pleased Pippa stand side by side. Ama on the other side of the kitchen wears the same look on her face.

  “I didn’t either, old man,” Ama seconds.

  “Well, I’m not surprised,” Pippa contributes with a smirk. “Irresistibility runs in the family.”

  Nella groans and I allow myself a chuckle.

  “I assume you’re all looking for lunch, but you’re gonna have to get your own,” Ama announces as she turns back to the counter. “I’m busy baking.”

  Then she flips the switch and turns that god-awful racket back on.

  “We’re O for two.”

  Sully looks glum as he hands me his horse’s reins.

  I’d just wolfed down a quick sandwich when I heard the trucks roll in. The team was back.

  Jonas didn’t say much before he disappeared to the house, except to instruct Dan and me to make sure the horses are fed and stabled. Apparently, the search has netted nothing so far.

  “What about the third location?”

  There were three hunting spots the owner of the RV repair place had suggested.

  “It’s all the fucking way up near the Canadian border. The horses need rest and we need some food and a couple of hours of sleep before we head up there.”

  “Go get some grub then. We’ve got the horses.”

  We, being Dan and me, but it doesn’t take long to get them sorted.

  The guys stay until after dinner before we load the horses back in the trailers for the team’s trek north. Once again, they are going in under cover of night and I hope this time they find the bastards so we can get back to some normalcy and a bit of fucking privacy.

  Nerves will only get more frayed the longer it takes, and already this afternoon I almost lost my temper with Thomas. Which is why I keep as busy as I can outside the house.

  When the old man and the sisters settle in front of the TV, I escape to the porch to clean and oil my tack, something I haven’t done in a long time. That’s where Nella eventually finds me.

  “Are you avoiding us?” she asks, lowering herself in the rocking chair.

  “Not you,” I correct her. “But yeah, in a crowd I’m only good for a short time before I get edgy.”

  One side of her mouth tilts up. “I can leave if you prefer.”

  “Don’t.” I reach out and put a hand on her knee. “The only thing better than being alone is being alone with you.”

  The slight tilt spreads into a bright smile that reaches all the way to her eyes and hits me square in the solar plexus.

  “In that case, Thomas and Pippa just went to bed…you can be alone with me inside.”

  I’m receiving her invite loud and clear, but I can’t take her up on it. The woman got shot just days ago. That said, I may not feel right about fucking her but there’s nothing wrong with feeling her up a little.

  I toss the rag on the saddle, stand up, and hold out my hand for her. She allows me to pull her to her feet, but squeals when I bend down and lift her in my arms, her crutches clattering to the porch.

  “No one watching now.”

  Her arms go around my neck, her head drops on my shoulder, and I carry her inside.

  I take her straight to the living room where someone—probably Thomas—had already turned off the lights. The room is cast in shadows with only a faint glow coming from the kitchen where the LED strips under the cupboards were left on.

  Max, who is lying in his bed between the dining area and the living room, briefly lifts his big head to check who is coming in. I guess we pass muster because he lays his big head back on his paws and dozes back off.

  I stayed down here last night. The couch—a massive sectional—was comfortable enough, even though I only dozed. I place Nella in a corner so she can stretch her legs along the short side, keeping her injured one elevated. Then I walk to the secondary panel by the sliding doors in the kitchen and set the alarm.

  “Can I get you anything? Drink?” I ask turning toward her.

  She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”

  “Take your meds?”

  I want to make sure before her mouth and the feel of my hands on her curves make me forget. My body is already moving toward her.

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Yes. Anything else you need to know before you sit down?”

  God, she’s something else. Once she decides what she wants the mousy librarian becomes a demanding vixen, and I fucking love it. It’s like a goddamn fantasy come alive.

  “No,” I growl when I stop right in front of her.

  I fish my gun from the belt clip at the small of my back and drop it on the coffee table. Then I brace my hands on the backrest at either side of her, lean down, and drop a brief kiss on her lips.

  “Sit,” she orders when I straighten up.

  I comply, perched on the edge as she reaches for one of my hands, studying it, her fingers tracing the ink on my knuckles. My hands are rough and broad—workman’s hands. Hers are slender and elegant in contrast.

  “Did you get these to hide the scars?”

  “No, to remind myself how I got them,” I answer truthfully.

  The ink runs all the way up my arm and down one side of my back. Funny, she never asked about it before. She never commented on my scars before either, only acknowledged them after I brought them up. It’s like she accepted both as part of me, like you would the color of someone’s hair.

  Even now, at my words, she simply nods like they are enough for her to understand the depth behind them. Maybe she does. Maybe I’m not the enigma I sometimes imagine myself to be. At least not to her.

  I wait for the fear that usually accompanies this kind of exposure to hit, but there’s nothing. Not even the overwhelming emotions I feel looking down at her scare me anymore.

  This woman—this understated, undisguised, and honest woman—makes me want to step out of the shadows of my past. She’s the promise of something I’d long ago given up on.

  “Don’t go,” tumbles out of my mouth.

  She looks confused.

  “Where would I go? I’m right here.”

  “Home. Canada. Babe, I don’t want you to leave.”

  “Fletcher…”

  Her lips stretch in a sweet smile, but I suddenly need her answer.

  “I put an offer on a place. Next door to the rescue.”

  “Fletch…” she murmurs.

  “Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m asking. All I know is I want you to stick around.”

  “I plan to, at least while I try to figure out what comes next.”

  I guess it’s all I can ask after knowing each other for only a couple of weeks.

  “I can show you what’s next …”

  I go down on my knees in front of her and reach for the waistband of the sweats she’s wearing. Then I pull them down along with her panties and lift her good leg to the other side of the couch so she is on display before me. This is what I had in mind when I sat her down in this corner. I just hope her sister or Thomas don’t pick now to come downstairs, but I should hear them.

  Her eyes darken as I place a hand low on her belly and use my thumb and forefinger to expose her clit. The moment my mouth closes over that hard pearl, one hand claws at the back of my head. With the other she grabs a throw pillow, covers her mouth with it, and gyrates her hips against me.

  Goddamn. I could come from just eating this woman. She keeps no holds barred as she gives herself over to her body’s needs and wants. Absolutely fucking perfect as she reaches for her climax unapologetically.

  I’m lost in her taste and scent and hum against her slick core. Her legs start to tremble as she clamps her thighs against my ears and I double up on my efforts. I hear a soft growl and my eyes lift to her face a moment before her body jerks in the throes of her orgasm.

  Then it registers she only now releases the pillow which was pressed against her mouth, yet I still hear the growling.

  I surge to my feet and turn to where the dog is halfway out of his bed, crouching low with his head aimed at the front of the house, his teeth exposed.

  “Get dressed,” I whisper over my shoulder. “And get down behind the couch.”

  Not waiting for her confirmation, I grab my gun off the table and start moving toward Max when he suddenly leaps forward, barking loudly, and heads for the front of the house.

  I reach into the office doorway to snag the rifle we keep mounted on the other side of the doorframe for easy access. Then I cautiously walk up to the front door, where the dog is making a racket. A strange glow is visible when I press my eye against the peephole and I instantly know what I’m looking at.

  Yanking open the door I don’t bother disarming the alarm, I want it to go off.

  I’m gonna need all the help I can get.

  Twenty-Six

  Nella

  I’m still scrambling to get back into my pants when the alarm goes off.

  Immediately, I hear movement above me. I assume if anyone slept through Max’s midnight serenade, this high-pitched beeping would’ve penetrated for sure. It’s the kind of noise that puts you on edge, if you weren’t already there.

  My body is still recovering from that delicious orgasm, but now my heart is racing with the added surge of adrenaline and my mind is already bouncing around like a pinball.

  I know Fletch told me to get down behind the couch, but there’s no way I can without at least knowing what is going on. Sticking to the shadows, I inch along the wall toward the hallway.

  I’m almost there when I hear footsteps come down the stairs. I poke my head around the corner to see Thomas flipping open the alarm panel by the front door, which is wide open. Beyond him I see a red glow coming from the direction of the barn and I suck in a sharp breath.

  “Dad gum it, girl! Y’all scared the livin’ poop outta me,” he complains as he quickly punches in a code.

  The sudden silence is as startling as the alarm was, but then I hear a sound that has my entire body break out in goosebumps.

  “Is that—” I begin to ask when Thomas steps out on the porch.

  “Oh, dear Lord…” the old man mutters as he hurries down the steps as fast as his legs will allow.

  I walk outside and the sounds are louder here. The barn is engulfed in flames and what I’m hearing are the frightened squeals of horses.

  “Nella, call 911, make sure the fire department is coming fully loaded! And the vet, number is on the tack board in the office,” Alex barks in passing as she sprints past me.

  For a moment I’m frozen by the spectacle when suddenly my sister brushes right by me too and heads in the same direction.

  “Now, Nella!” she yells.

  My legs come unglued and I stumble inside the house to the first door on the left.

  I locate the portable phone and almost drop it when it starts ringing.

  “Hello?”

  “Nella? This is Wayne Ewing, everything all right there?”

  I’m guessing he gets some kind of notification when the alarm goes off.

  “No. The barn is on fire. Oh, my God…the horses. I have to call the fire department. Fletch and Thomas are out there. And my sister. Oh, Jesus…Pippa.”

  My teeth chatter with the violent shakes overtaking my body.

  “Nella? Where are you?”

  “I’m in the office. I need to call the vet.” A high-pitched whinny can be heard clear as day. “Can you hear the horses? I have to go help.”

  I’m already walking out of the office, barely aware of the tears streaming down my face as I listen to Ewing’s calming voice.

  “Listen to me. I’m on my way, so is the fire department, and I’ll call the vet. What I need you to do is take the phone and lock yourself into the downstairs bathroom, okay?”

  “Okay,” I lie.

  No way in hell can I cower inside and listen to this, knowing the people I care most about in this world are out there, doing the right thing.

  “Hang in there,” I hear the sheriff say as I step outside.

  Fletch

  Flames lick down from the hayloft and it’s raining burning embers on my shoulders as I wield the ax at the door.

  The fire must’ve started in the tack room. I found the entire front of the barn engulfed and inaccessible. I directed the old man and Alex to the rear barn doors to release the horses from there, but King’s stall is nearer to the side door leading to the manure pile. My horse is cut off from the barn doors on both sides.

  I can hear him inside—the terrified sounds he makes, the stuff of nightmares—and I swing the ax again. I keep telling myself as long as I can still hear him, he’s alive. Someone must’ve thrown the heavy-duty latch on the inside and I’ve tried kicking it down without success. When the hole is big enough for me to reach through, I ignore the falling embers burning my skin and I rock the latch back and forth until it finally slides free.

  Smoke billows out the moment the door is open, and I quickly pull my shirt over the bottom half of my face. Visibility is zero and it’s only by feel and memory I find the latch to King’s stall, but nothing happens when I throw open the door. I’m not thinking of my own safety when I reach a hand in front of me and step into the pen. Some of the straw in the stall is smoldering which is likely why he’s cowering against the far wall.

  “Let’s go, King,” I rasp against the thick smoke. “Come on, boy.”

  My fingers encounter quivering flesh and a hot puff of air. His nose. Instinctively my hand grabs onto his halter and he follows me without hesitation.

  It’s an amazing bond between horse and man, one built solely on mutual trust. I know I can close my eyes and trust King to navigate me down the steepest cliffs, just as he trusts me to lead him from danger, even if what I’m asking of him is against every instinct he has.

  I lead King away from the barn and straight to the corral, where a small group—Thomas, Pippa, and Alex—is keeping the other horses calm. Six of them in total. King is almost vibrating beside me when Alex, who is ready with the hose, douses both my horse and me before aiming it back at the others.

  Smart of her to focus on the horses instead of the barn. It would’ve been a futile attempt, I’m afraid. The hay became fuel to the fire and before I even got outside, it had spread along the entire length of the loft. I can hear sirens coming closer but I don’t think the fire department is going to do much more than make sure the fire doesn’t jump.

  I glance around at the horses to gauge their injuries but it’s difficult to tell, even though someone thought to flick on the floodlight next to the corral.

 

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